Now You Know
by Sigma Creations
Summary: One shot, set after 9.3, yet another fic that started out as a caption. As always, Kudos owns these wonderful characters and I'm just borrowing them to make them happy. Reviews are always welcome. Cheers, S.C.


All evening Tariq has looked dejected, clearly beating himself up for the mistake he'd made earlier that had cost them such a valuable asset. They've all been there, all done that, but nothing anyone has said to him has served to make him feel any better. Not until Ruth arrived and sat down beside him.

He has no idea what exactly she said to him. She'd spoken low, for Tariq's ears only, her hand gently resting on his forearm and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He'd watched Tariq nod a few times, reply to her, shake his head and listen intently, shaggy hair falling over his eyes as he'd tilted his head forward. He'd watched him lift his eyes to Ruth's, his face hopeful, had watched him smile tentatively at something she'd said, and finally laugh, replying with some comment that had made Ruth laugh too and squeeze his arm again before removing her hand and turning to join the conversation at their table.

And that had been that.

Tariq was back to his old self and Harry had found himself falling in love with her all over again, wishing... wishing that everything could have been different.

All evening he's stayed silent, brooding and drinking far more than is good for him. All evening, the conversation has gone on around him, everyone seemingly recognising his need to be left alone. All evening he's watched her and wished... wished for what he knows now can never be.

It's late and he should be getting home, but he doesn't particularly want to. There's nothing at home for him these days, his little dog, Scarlet, having finally left him too several months ago now. He sighs and massages his forehead, tilting the glass in his other hand to watch the light catch the amber liquid, wondering how it is that he's still able to keep going in spite of everything.

 _What are you doing, Harry?_

"Harry?" her soft voice captures his attention and he lifts his head.

"Yes?"

"It'll be alright, you know," she murmurs. Her hand moves a fraction and he thinks she might touch his forearm like she had Tariq's, but she balls it into a fist instead.

 _Is this what we've become, Ruth? Am I just another colleague in need of comfort now?_

He feels a stab of anger at the thought, but he squashes it quickly. At least she still cares. After everything they've been through, everything he's done, it's a comforting thought. She's still the only one willing to risk his anger to make sure that he's alright. Everyone else has ignored him all evening, though he can hardly blame them.

His eyes soften as he looks at her, wishing that things could have been different between them, marvelling at how remarkable a woman she truly is.

 _Is it any wonder she said no? She is so far out of your league, Harry Pearce._

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he replies, still looking at her, smiling a soft smile.

"It's not nothing, Harry. Why are you looking at me like that?" she insists.

He sighs. "I... I just wish you'd said yes, Ruth. That's all. I know there is nothing I can say or do to change your mind, but I do wish..."

Suddenly she looks wary, frowning at him and tilting her body away from his as she objects, "Harry-"

"No," he interrupts quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You've been honest with me and I appreciate that... I do. It's good to know that there's no hope." He drops his gaze from hers as he says it, feeling his already shattered heart break a little bit more, the acceptance almost killing him. "It's just so _hard_ to let you go when I've loved you for so long."

Her sharp intake of breath makes him look up, his eyes over-bright with emotion.

 _You're drunk, Harry. You're giving far too much away. Get a grip!_

"God, Harry!" she exhales, looking torn between anger and pain. " _Now_ you tell me?! Like this?!"

He's confused, but maybe it's the alcohol that's dulling his wits. "Tell you what?"

"That you love me," she almost hisses at him.

"I thought it was obvious, Ruth. I thought you knew. Why else would I want to marry you?" She's not making any sense. Then again, this is Ruth. She rarely makes sense when it comes to personal matters. It's only at work that he can understand her language.

"I don't know!" She sounds exasperated now. "Companionship, loneliness?"

He smiles a sad smile. "I could get a dog for those things, Ruth. I wouldn't need a wife."

She's silent for some moments after that, staring down at her hands. Over her shoulder, he sees Lucas redirect Tariq and Beth to another table and he experiences a brief flash of gratitude. They really don't need this conversation interrupted.

"But... why a wife at all? Why not... a girlfriend?" Her eyes are luminous as she looks at him, sounding so puzzled by it all.

 _Is this where I went wrong, Ruth? Is this why you said no?_

He takes a deep breath, trying to squash down the spark of hope that he feels stutter in his heart. He doesn't need this now. Not now he's finally accepted his fate.

Yet he finds that he cannot leave her wondering, so he explains. "Because I want it all. I want to live with you, not see you once or twice a week and have to figure out the logistics of whose house we'll be at and mess about with toothbrushes, shaving kits, and changes of clothes. And because anyone I care about is always in danger and I wanted you under my roof where I can protect you, keep you safe. Because I wanted to show my commitment to you, to disabuse people of the notion that our relationship was anything but one born of a deep love and respect for each other, so that they wouldn't gossip about us for long, as they inevitably would. And because I didn't want to waste any more time, Ruth. That's why."

She looks a little stunned by all that.

"But why didn't you say this before, when you asked me?"

"It seemed obvious to me, Ruth."

"Well, it isn't. Not at all obvious in fact." She shakes her head, whether in exasperation or disbelief, he doesn't know.

"Well..." he murmurs, "now you know." It seems like a stupid thing to say, but he doesn't know how else to respond.

"Yes," she replies, lifting her eyes to his once more. "I do." There's something in her gaze as she says it, but he can't quite put his finger on what it is.

 _Well. That's that then. Best call it a night, old boy, before you bare your soul any more and end up grovelling at her feet. Have some self-respect!_

"Right," he says, draining his glass. "I'd better be heading home. It's getting-"

"Harry?" she interrupts.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to have dinner one night?"

He stares, his pulse thundering in his ears, making him sure that he's misheard. "Dinner?"

"Yes." She pauses, then adds, "That is if you'd like to, of course."

He smiles.

 _She remembers. Oh Ruth!_

"But as what, Ruth? Colleagues? Friends?" he asks softly, desperate to make sure he's not misunderstanding her, yet knowing that it is already too late to guard his battered, old heart. He can feel the hope blossoming in his chest and he knows that, if she rejects him again now, he'll not survive it.

"Both," she says, pausing before adding, "but also, I was hoping, as something more than that too."

He can see Tariq and Beth watching them from the other table, but he doesn't care. This might well be the most important moment in his life entire life.

 _Don't blow this, Harry. Focus! Please, God,_ _let me find the right words._

His breathing is laboured now and he has to swallow before his can speak. "More than that?"

"Oh for Pete's sake!" she exclaims, losing her patience and sounding more than a little exasperated. "I can't marry you when I haven't even slept with you, Harry!"

The effect of her words is instantaneous. People fall silent all around them, turning to stare. Tariq's mouth drops open, Beth says, "Bloody hell!" rather more loudly than she probably intended, Dimitri looks a little stunned, Lucas grins at him over his shoulder and Ruth… Well, Ruth has disappeared behind her hands, though if her forehead is anything to go by, she's turned a delightful shade of red. He smiles fondly down at her, suppressing the urge to laugh.

 _Poor Ruth._

"Come on," he says quickly, shooting a quelling look at his team and slipping into his coat before grabbing hers from the back of her chair and holding it open for her.

She looks up, torn between remaining here with everyone staring at her and leaving with him, presumably baulking at the idea that people will think they've gone home to shag each other senseless.

 _If only!_

Sadly for everyone concerned, however, he's probably had a little too much to drink tonight to make it anything but a remote possibility.

He smiles softly down at her. "It's late and I'm in need of food," he says. "There's a place not far from here that serves good Indian food and should still be open. Join me?"

She nods, allowing him to help her into her coat and steer her out of the pub and into the crisp night air.

"I can't believe I just did that," she murmurs, looking stunned.

He chuckles. "You raised a valid point," he offers, trying to placate her.

She shoots him a filthy look.

"Now everyone will know you proposed. And everyone will think that we've gone home to..." Mercifully, she stops in time, though part of him's rather disappointed she didn't finish that sentence.

 _What was she going to say? Have sex? Shag? Make love?_

"Let them think what they want to think, Ruth," he says softly, taking a step closer to stand in front of her, his hands grasping her arms gently as he tilts his head to catch her eye. "It doesn't matter. It's what _we_ think and feel that's important here."

She gazes into his eyes for long moments before she replies. "And what is it that _you_ think and feel, Harry?"

"Honestly? I'm finding it hard to believe any of this is real, Ruth. I thought it was over. I've spent the last few weeks trying to retrain myself not to think of you all the time, not to dream of a life with you every night. I failed quite spectacularly, but I kept telling myself to keep trying. I've drunk more than is wise tonight and I'm terrified I'll wake up tomorrow morning and find that it was all a dream." His voice cracks on the last word and he feels his face begin to crumble, quickly lifting his hand to hide from her and attempting to turn away.

She doesn't let him, taking a swift step forward and enveloping him in her embrace. "Oh Harry," she whispers, her hands running up and down his back, face tucked against his chin. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry." He takes a deep breath, gently wrapping his arms around her, fighting for control as he tilts his head forward, mind in turmoil, emotions all over the place.

 _God, this feels so good!_

"I don't know how you can still love me after everything I've done to hurt you, Harry," she whispers. "I don't deserve that kind of devotion. I don't deserve that kind of love."

He chuckles in surprise, thinking how absurd it is that she feels that way when he feels like _he's_ the one undeserving of her love. "Don't talk nonsense, Ruth," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. "I was watching you tonight, what you did for Tariq. You are a remarkable woman. _I'm_ the one who can't believe his luck."

He feels her lift her head and mirrors her movement, his eyelashes still damp as he gazes at her, smiling softly down at her, the love in her eyes slowly healing the cracks in his battered, old heart. "I love you, Harry," she murmurs. "You know that, don't you? I couldn't forget you. I tried, but I've always loved you. I think I probably always will."

Then she lifts her arms over his shoulders and kisses his lips, and he feels his world right itself inside, feels renewed strength infuse his body, feels suddenly invincible and on top of the world.

When they break apart, he rests his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the clear, night air, his lips smiling softly. "It's getting late. Let's have dinner, Ruth," he murmurs. "Then I'll take you home."

"I'm already home," she replies.


End file.
